EHYEH-ASHER-EHYEH (I AM THAT I AM): An Elena Duran/Corazon Negro
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@directvinternet.com)
Fri, 20 Sep 2002 10:11:17 -0400
Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh (I am that I am) 8/34
Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx
Vi Moreau vmoreau@directvinternet.com
Later that morning.
Methos walked into the kitchen, where Cassandra was making coffee. She eyed
him quickly, and then returned to her work.
Methos sighed, knowing very well Cassandra's feelings toward him-and
figuring he wasn't going to get his cup of coffee. "I'm glad you're all
right," he said, trying to sound polite. "The Berserkers, I mean," he said
lamely. He'd heard about Cassandra and the MacLeods being attacked by a
group of Immortal Viking Berserkers, and that only the Ancient Gathering's
fortuitous arrival had kept Cassandra and the Scots from being overwhelmed.
Cassandra nodded, but Methos felt a sudden anger growing inside her that she
tried to conceal. He shook his head. Cassandra had never been able to fool
him. "Look," he began, "if we are going to spend the next days together,
maybe we should try-"
"Spare me your lies, 'Death'," she said sharply. "Maybe the others trust you
because they don't know you as well as I do. So, cut the crap. You're not
happy to see me. And you know what? Ditto."
"I thought that maybe-" Methos started earnestly.
"Don't," Cassandra interrupted him solemnly. She stopped, leaning to one
side. Then she refilled her cup with coffee, took a deep swallow and studied
him openly over the rim.
Methos wanted to leave; instead, he forced himself to sit on one of the
kitchen chairs. They were going to be fighting together, by all the Gods,
and they had to reach some modus vivendi, although he knew that Cassandra
was still angry with him, and that right now, she might feel that the only
possible solution to their differences was with a sword. It was not a
pleasant thought, but she had to get over it, for the moment. They had more
important things to do. He started to say so when she startled him with a
sudden movement, rather like a slumbering cat instantly propelled into
predatory action, and she closed the door to the hall. Methos heard her turn
the key.
Methos stood, uncertain of what she meant to do. Certainly she wasn't crazy
enough to want to duel with him now! She began to turn in a circle, humming
and throwing back her head. Her bare feet were soundless on the polished
wooden kitchen floor.
All right. This was weird, even for Cassandra. Methos pressed himself
against the wall. "What are you doing?"
Round and round she spun, her yellow cotton skirt flaring and the cup
sloshing coffee into the air. She paid no attention to the spilt liquor,
and, slowing her turns only for a moment, she took another sip, then began
to turn so fast that her garments slapped against her legs.
Stopping dead as she faced Methos, she spit the coffee between her teeth
into a fine spray at his face. He had to move to his left to avoid the
spray, which still wet his shoulder.
"Cassandra!" Methos exclaimed, as a high-pitched wail came out of her
clenched teeth and she continued to issue the coffee from her mouth.
Once again she began to dance, almost deliberately slapping her feet and
murmuring. Methos couldn't catch the language or the words. Her hair was
tangled over her face. Again a swallow, again the coffee flying.
Suddenly she hurled a stream of coffee from the cup all over the kitchen.
Head back, she screamed between her teeth. "Nothing is forgotten, Kadosh.
You're still mine!" The kitchen seemed to shake as she bent her knees and
circled, pounding her feet in a loud dance.
Cassandra lunged at the knives on the wall, never letting go of her cup, and
grabbing one blade in her left hand, she slashed a long cut into her right
arm.
Methos gasped. How could Cassandra have called him Kadosh? What did she
mean? And what could he do to stop her? What could he do that wouldn't
enrage her?
The blood streamed down her arm and she bowed her head, licked at it, drank
the coffee, and sprayed the offering on the kitchen once again.
Methos could see the blood flowing down her hand, over her knuckles. Her
wound was superficial but the amount of blood was awful. Again she lifted
the knife. "You are cursed, Kadosh! Remember that!" she screamed.
Kadosh! he realized. Oh, no! Not her, not here! Not her! He had to stop
Cassandra, save her somehow. Methos resolved to grab hold of her as she went
to cut herself again. But at that instant, Cassandra looked at him and all
at once he couldn't move.
Methos was rooted to the spot. He tried with all his resources to overcome
the paralysis, but it was useless. All he could do was yell at her, try to
reach her. "Stop it, Cassia!"
She slashed at her arm across the first cut, and again the blood flowed.
"Look at me, Kadosh! None of you can kill me! I'm forever!" Cassandra
screamed.
"For the love of heaven, Cassandra, fight her! Lilitu, let her go!" Methos
cried. He wondered why none of the others, the members of the Ancient
Gathering, heard anything. "We're in here!" he called out. Unable to watch
her slash her arm again, he began to pray frantically. "Give me the power to
stop her, give me the power to divert her before she harms herself! We need
help!" he
cried out again. "Zarach!" He shut his eyes. The floor was trembling beneath
him.
Suddenly the noise of her screams and her bare feet stopped.
Methos felt Cassandra against him. He opened his eyes. She stood in his
embrace, both of them facing the door to the outside, which seemed
indisputably open, and the shadowy figure that stood with her back to the
light. It was a graceful maiden with long tightly curling red hair flowing
down to her waist. Her face was veiled in shadow, her glowing green eyes
piercing his soul. It was she! It was Lilitu.
"I told you, my child. The two of you are forever mine," Lilitu's shape
hissed, her voice icy.
Methos felt Cassandra's whole pliant body against him. Finding his arms
free, he wrapped them tightly around her, trying to protect her, and
silently prayed again. No one was going to come to their aid. It was he and
Cassandra alone against the evil. And he had no chance. Cassandra was
quaking, her body covered in sweat.
"Go away! You have no more power over us!" Methos yelled defiantly,
straining to move.
The figure in the closed doorway appeared as solid as anything Methos had
ever beheld. The shadowy face showed no expression, and the green eyes
remained fixed.
The voice issued from it, low, and full of hatred. "Fool, you never stopped
me!" said Lilitu. "Do you think I caused what happened to you both? It was
you, Kadosh, you desired it to happen. You couldn't curse me to save your
soul!"
Methos thought Cassandra would lose consciousness, but somehow she remained
standing, though
his arms were ready to hold her should she fall.
"Don't let me go, Methos," Cassandra said in a hoarse whisper that seemed
entirely her own. "Don't let me go."
"I won't Cassandra," Methos said. "Please, forgive me."
"Go to your God to get your forgiveness," came the low voice from the
darkened countenance. "Don't come to me."
Cassandra shuddered, crying out as if she'd been struck with a lash. Methos
could feel the stickiness of her blood coming down over his fingers. Again
he prayed, but his words were coming automatically. He was riveted heart and
soul by the being in the doorway, who neither moved nor dissolved.
"Get down on your knees," said the voice. "Worship me as you did eons
before, and you'll be
spared, Kadosh."
"No," Methos whispered, but it was no use. An immense 'push' forced both of
them forward and down to their knees on the floor, which was wet and
slippery with blood and spilt coffee.
Once again, Methos tried to move, but it was as if both his legs had been
nailed to the floorboards.
Cassandra's back was to him, but he knew she was pressing her left fingers
to the wounds to make them bleed ever more deeply, and he heard Lilitu's
shape in the doorway laughing.
Cassandra's breaths were coming rapid and hoarse spurts as she squeezed the
blood onto the floor.
Methos tried one more time. "Zarach! Aylon! Help us!" In the meantime he
continued to pray for strength against the figure, but he could not claim
that it was his prayers that made the being begin to fade. All at once a
horrid scream broke from Lilitu as the door from the hallway crashed open
and Aylon entered the kitchen, his huge scimitar in hand.
"Lilitu! Lilitu!" Methos screamed.
But Lilitu was gone.
========
Cassandra's cuts were not deep and were healing, though the flood of blood
had been substantial. They put her to bed in some sort of daze. The men
crowded around, and Elena sat on the edge of Connor's king-size bed, wiping
Cassandra's face with a wet cloth.
"What happened?" Heru-sa-aset asked.
Methos lowered his gaze, recovering his strength. "Lilitu was here. She
tried to scare us."
Duncan chuckled behind him. "I'd say she did a good job."
Connor eyed Methos suspiciously. "Why you two? Why not someone else?"
"Right now," Myrddin spoke, "they were the most vulnerable targets because
of their history together. Deep inside, Cassandra still hates Methos," the
wizard explained. "Perhaps Lilitu didn't attack anyone else directly because
she can't. Zarach was an exception because she caught him totally unprepared
days ago. Cassandra's mind is open to these kind of attacks because she is a
Priestess, and therefore, more susceptible to Lilitu's influence."
"What about Corazon Negro?" Duncan asked, looking at the Aztec. "Or even
you, Myrddin. You are a mage too."
"Corazon Negro is now the new Dreamer," Myrddin stated. "I doubt that
Lilitu's powers can reach him. As for myself, I'm a member of the Ancient
Gathering. Cassandra never was."
Zarach interrupted them. "Let's go outside. We need to discuss this
further."
"Can we leave Cassandra alone?" Elena asked, worried.
"Lilitu has done her damage here. She won't return today," Zarach assured
them. "But another time." He let that thought drift as they all filed
outside Connor's house. There was a cold breeze coming down from the hills.
The soil of the vegetable garden was gray and dry, but here and there were a
few signs of the green to come.
"Cassandra cannot go with us," Corazon Negro said, repeating what Zarach had
told him a few minutes before. "For her own good. We can't expose her to
another attack."
"Agreed," Methos said. "But we can't leave her alone. Someone must stay with
her to protect her."
All eyes flew to the Highlanders. Connor shook his head. "Out of the
question," he said. "I care deeply for Cassandra, but I won't turn my back
to this task. I cannot speak for Duncan."
"I agree, cousin," Duncan said. "I love Cassandra, too. But right now, we
have more pressing matters at hand."
"Then we need to find someone who can take of her," Zarach commented low. He
closed his eyes, thinking. "Myrddin," he said. "Use your computer and find
Amanda."
"Amanda is lost," Duncan announced. "I couldn't find her days ago when I
tried to reach her."
"She is not lost to me," Myrddin said sitting on the ground and placing his
computer on his lap. His fingers flew over the keyboard. "I have hundreds of
sources to check out. If she is still alive, I'll find her." The mage looked
at Zarach. "Why her?"
"Because she owes me from way back; besides, she and Cassandra are friends,
of a sort," Zarach answered. "She can hide Cassandra, although I'm not sure
if that would make any difference right now. Mother continues her killings
all around the world. Hopefully she won't attack the two women, although I
cannot predict what Lilitu will do."
All of them lowered their heads. They had seen the news on the TV. All
around the world, major disasters were occurring. A tsunami in Okinawa, a
volcano in Nepal, an earthquake which had destroyed most of the Vatican City
and a large chunk of Rome, while Jerusalem had disappeared under a huge
sandstorm. Untold thousands had perished, and emergency crews were strained
all over the world trying to find survivors.
It was like the Mexico City earthquake all over again, Elena remembered,
except in more than one place, and all in one day! Elena had called to warn
Hosokawa, knowing that the samurai was a power for good and that Lilitu
would want to destroy him. After the news of the tsunami Elena had called
Tokyo again. Ueshiba had confirmed her worst fears-the samurai and his
pre-Immortal student, Miyu, had gone to a small island in Okinawa, but
apparently Lilitu had found them there and killed another Immortal on Holy
Ground. The island had been swallowed up by the giant wave, and thousands
had drowned. It seemed Lilitu wanted to destroy the world.
Duncan's rapt expression had changed little. Connor was gaunt, and the need
for knowledge was hurting him, though he paid it no mind. Elena took Corazon
Negro's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, as though to get strength from
the Aztec's touch, as Heru-sa-aset and Aylon remained silent.
"Remember," Zarach added. "We must be seven in the Ancient Gathering at the
final battle. And yet, now, with Naema's..." he took a deep breath before
continuing, "... death, we are only six: Aylon, Heru-sa-aset, Myrddin,
Methos, Corazon Negro, myself..."
"We're a part of this now," Connor said earnestly.
Zarach was momentarily amused and pleased at the young Immortal's
willingness. But he shook his head. "Not unless you intend to separate from
your clansman. Cassandra said the numbers were important. We must follow the
prophecy, and give ourselves every possible advantage."
"Right now, Lilitu must be exhausted by her killings on Holy Ground, and she
will keep her Headless Children by her side," Myrddin mused. "Perhaps we can
find her by tracking these Immortals' whereabouts, where they congregate."
"Good thinking," Heru-sa-aset stated, smiling at the wizard.
"I know the way to find her," Corazon Negro announced.
The ones who didn't know yet about the Aztec's previous revelation looked at
him, waiting for an explanation.
"I dreamt about an artifact that can see her, and her whereabouts:
Quetzalcohuatl's mask."
"Where is it?" Aylon asked.
"Mexico. Near the village of Texistepec," Elena spoke for the first time.
The silence was protracted as everyone considered the implications. Then
everybody turned to look at Elena, who suddenly felt like she was under a
microscope.
Zarach could see how hard this was on her; nevertheless, she was a part of
this, and no one objected, so he said, "Elena Duran, daughter of Roderigo
Rubio and of the Mapuche tribe..." But even as he spoke, he could see how
she was on the point of-
"No!" she said, her voice almost broken. "I can't."
"Of course you can, Elena. Roderigo taught you well. Don't make me think
than perhaps you aren't as strong as I thought," Aylon simply commented.
"I've seen you at your worst, and I don't underestimate you," Connor said.
Zarach had been told that Elena and the elder MacLeod were always fighting,
and this was a left-handed compliment, but praise for her nonetheless.
"I know you. You won't let us down," Duncan stated also, taking her hand and
squeezing it. Zarach noticed the glance between them, knowing these two had
been lovers at one time, seeing that there was a strong bond still between
them. Duncan's touch seemed to give her added strength.
"I agree with them, Elena. You are an important piece in this mess," Methos
said. "Otherwise Lilitu wouldn't have tried to destroy you so ...
earnestly."
Elena's hand went automatically to her eye patch. She had lost that eye at
the hands of Claude Bethel, one of Lilitu's Immortal minions. "But I don't
know how-" Elena tried to reply.
"You will know when the time comes," Heru-sa-aset encouraged her.
Corazon Negro looked at her, love and pride shining in his eyes. "Remember,
my love-until the end of time."
Elena finally nodded. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
"I'll do whatever I can," she promised.
Zarach spoke again. "Then you are one of us, of the Ancient Gathering. It is
done. Corazon Negro," he said, looking at the Aztec. "It is also time for
you to take your rightful place in the Ancient Gathering. You are
Quetzalcohuatl's son. You are the new Dreamer. We need your magic. Protect
the Black Flower. Cast a spell so Lilitu cannot hurt her."
The Aztec nodded, and at that moment, Elena could feel a stillness around
Corazon Negro. It was a palpable quiet that began somewhere within him, but
radiated from him as well. The Aztec closed his eyes and began to walk
around all of them. Connor and Duncan eased off to the opposite side to
better watch what Corazon Negro was doing.
Corazon Negro stared intently at the infinite. Then he reached into the skin
sack he carried draped over one shoulder and pulled out a small pine broom
and began to sweep the air, starting in the center and moving in a gradually
expanding spiral.
No one spoke. Corazon Negro's sweeping must have taken at least two minutes,
but no one said a word and few so much as crossed or uncrossed their arms.
When he was done, the Aztec placed the pine bough in the center of the yard.
Then he casually walked into the forest.
They looked to one another with questioning gazes. "What was that all
about?" Duncan asked Methos quietly.
Methos only shrugged, and then pointed.
Corazon Negro was returning. The hushed speculation of the young ones
quickly died away. The Aztec carried an armful of sticks and small branches,
which he placed near the center of the yard and then began to build into a
small bonfire. He worked as silently and as deliberately at his task as he
had at his sweeping, and for the two minutes his construction occupied,
again, no one spoke or made a sound.
At last he was done, and he placed his skin sack on the ground next to the
thirty-centimeter-tall pile of sticks. From his bag he took something, but
Elena couldn't see what it was until he moved closer to her and stood before
her. In his left hand he held a piece of white chalk-a fat piece, like a
child would use to draw on a sidewalk. His hand was open and flat, perfectly
still. He began to press down on the chalk with a steady, circular motion.
As Elena looked on, he ground the fat piece of chalk into a fine powder
using only the pressure of his hands, and not a single speck of white fell
to the ground below.
Elena realized that while she had been intent on his hands and the
transformation of chalk to powder, he had been intent on her. His eyes
sparkled with love, and Elena's startlement drained away.
For a long moment, they gazed into each other's eyes, just like in a
romantic poem. Then the Aztec turned. He knelt and began to sprinkle the
chalk onto the ground, not in a haphazard manner but in a line, and as he
edged backward he continued to spread the chalk. Not once did he look over
his shoulder to check his direction as he went, but his movements were as
sure as the turning of the earth. He circled near the edge of the yard, not
stopping or varying his deliberate pace until he came again to his starting
point before Elena. He stood, and then reached an open, white hand to her.
The next thing Elena knew, she was stepping next to Corazon Negro. She could
see at once that the nearly completed circle the Aztec had drawn was perfect
in form, and that the bonfire of sticks stood exactly in the center. For a
moment, her legs nearly failed her. She could feel the weight of the trees
and the sky pressing down at her, and she feared that she might be crushed
against the ground. But when Corazon Negro took her hand the feeling passed.
She stepped through the opening he had left in the circle, and with the last
of the chalk he closed it behind her.
Next, Corazon Negro placed his hands upon her cheeks and jaw. His touch was
warm, and in his eyes a mirthful fire burned. The silence that had come was
thicker now, heavier, although not so heavy as the sky. Elena didn't know if
she could speak if she tried, so she merely watched.
Corazon Negro, wearing a slight smile, produced a flame in his index finger.
His finger traced a yellow line through the air. A five-inch flame leapt to
life and pounced almost instantly on the bonfire. The cracking of the sticks
filled Elena's ears, and she could smell the wood burning, but she had eyes
only for him.
The world beyond the circle was black against the dancing fire. Elena
vaguely remembered the others there-Zarach, Aylon, Myrddin, Heru-sa-aset,
Methos, Connor, and Duncan-but maybe they weren't there any longer. She and
Corazon Negro, standing on either side of the fire, were as alone as if they
sat on the surface of the moon or at the bottom of the ocean.
Elena tried to look into Corazon Negro's kind eyes, but somehow her gaze was
drawn to the flames that danced so close to her. She knew she should move
back to keep from getting burned, but her fear was numb and weak. She was so
tired, her body, her mind. So tired.
Then she realized that Corazon Negro was speaking to her. She strained to
see his face through the flames and the rising smoke. Though he spoke in a
low voice-he did little more than mumble under his breath-the sound of his
voice reached Elena, but for reasons beyond her grasp, she couldn't untangle
the words. They reached her ears but didn't proceed to her brain. She
thought at first that he spoke in a foreign tongue, maybe Nahuatl, but she
could fix in her mind not a single sound that he muttered. The words
dissipated as soon as they touched her awareness, like smoke upon the
breeze. Elena had the sense of hearing, but she didn't hear.
So intent was Elena on deciphering Corazon Negro's mutterings that she
didn't notice at first that he had fallen silent. The words seemed to
continue on as if with a life of their own, swirling upon the smoke that now
stood hovering close to the ground rather than rising skyward-. She wasn't
aware that he was calmly skirting around the fire and heading toward her and
dragging his skin
sack behind him.
The smoke, hanging low, grew thick and carried a heavy stench with it. Elena
couldn't see much beyond the chalk circle. She tried to remember exactly
what or whom she expected to see beyond the smoke, but her thoughts were as
elusive as Corazon Negro's chant. Details of the outside world were less
substantial than the gently churning smoke that by now almost formed a wall
around the yard.
Corazon Negro was at her side now. Reflected in his eyes, Elena could see
her face glowing in the firelight. He turned his sack upside down, and one
after another two small items trickled out onto the ground. An obsidian
knife; a snakeskin.
Elena tried to pay attention, but her mind was wrestling with the chant.
Corazon Negro picked up the snakeskin, tore it in two, and handed one piece
to Elena. The thin veil of brown and gray scales was rough against her palm.
Corazon Negro placed his half in the flames. Abruptly, Elena did the same
with her portion and the skin was quickly consumed.
Aghast at her own clumsiness, Elena looked warily to Corazon Negro. She had
no idea what kind of ceremony or spell he was performing. The Aztec only
shrugged and nodded toward the fire as a strange expression crossed his
face.
Corazon Negro took the obsidian knife, using it to scrape a pile of coals
and ashes from the diminishing fire. With the blade, he crushed the few
coals he'd gathered that were still red. Soon, the pile consisted purely of
black and gray ash. The Aztec continued to stir the ash for some time.
Finally, he raised his face and met Elena's gaze, but where before she'd
seen love in his eyes, now
she saw only sadness.
"The Endgame is at hand," Corazon Negro said holding Elena's gaze despite
her sudden desire to turn away. "And our road will be a difficult one."
Elena's shoulders tensed. His words spread terror through her, not because
she understood them, because she did not. But because she felt the truth of
what he had said.
Corazon Negro set the knife aside and scooped two handfuls of ash. He leaned
toward Elena, raised the ash toward her face. She wanted to pull away, to
run screaming from this prison of chalk and smoke. She wanted to run back to
her previous life, to the way life had been before. But none of those things
were possible. She couldn't even close her one good eye as Corazon Negro
pressed the handfuls of ash into it.
The ash, though still warm, did not burn. Elena could see nothing, but she
could feel her Immortality, like a volcano, beneath the surface, rising up
within her. She could feel how it filled her, how it destroyed every shred
of anything else inside her. It roamed free, and it would consume all.
========